


Fly Boys

by secretsidgenowriter



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, Drinking, Drunkenness, Fighter Pilots, First Meetings, M/M, One Night Stands
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 19:17:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13530858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretsidgenowriter/pseuds/secretsidgenowriter
Summary: It takes him a few minutes to flag down the bartender who has been stuck down the other end of the bar taking care of a large party of airmen in their uniforms.They’re far enough off base that uniform is a novelty. Sid could have worn his and gotten served a lot faster. He would have gotten more attention too.Another night, he thinks, as the bartender slides the glass across the surface of the bar and into his waiting hand.His lips meet the rim of the glass at the exact same time he feels a solid line of heat pressing against his back.“Whisky neat,” a voice close to his ear says.The bartender nods and turns away to grab a clean tumbler.





	Fly Boys

It’s far too crowded in here for Sid to do anything other than sit at the bar and drink.

All the pool tables are spoken for and the dance floor is a mess of sweaty bodies.

Neither of those things particularly interest him on any night but this night especially all he wants is to sit by himself and acquire a gentle buzz.

He knows he’s feeling sorry for himself but fuck it, he’s allowed.

Losing Duper like this sucks. They were supposed to have years together and now he’s being forced into early retirement because of blood clots.

Sid knows he’s being a little irrational about this whole thing.

Of course he’s always going to support Duper putting his health first and he’s happy that now he gets to spend more time with his family. His kids are still young. They have a lot of growing up to do and this way Duper is guaranteed to be there to see it.

Selfishly, he’s pissed.

Duper is more than just his Lieutenant Colonel. He’s like a big brother. Not seeing him everyday is going to be an adjustment that’s going to take a long time to get used to.

He just needs time.

And more beer.

It takes him a few minutes to flag down the bartender who has been stuck down the other end of the bar taking care of a large party of airmen in their uniforms.

They’re far enough off base that uniform is a novelty. Sid could have worn his and gotten served a lot faster. He would have gotten more attention too.

_Another night,_ he thinks, as the bartender slides the glass across the surface of the bar and into his waiting hand.

His lips meet the rim of the glass at the exact same time he feels a solid line of heat pressing against his back.

“Whisky neat,” a voice close to his ear says.

The bartender nods and turns away to grab a clean tumbler.

“Sorry,” the voice says as the heat moves from Sid’s back to his side.

Sid turns his head and locks onto soft brown eyes and the generous mouth of one of the most handsome men he’s seen in a long time.

Sid puts down his glass and turns his body toward him. 

“Been so busy here,” the man continues. He has a thick accent and has to lean down so Sid can hear him. “See the bartender come over to you and I just jump in. Didn’t mean to crowd.”

“I don’t mind,” Sid says and the man runs his tongue over his bottom lip and Sid knows he’s not just seeing things when he spots the sparks in the other man's eyes. “I’d ask you sit and have a drink with me but…” He gestures to the occupied bar stools on either side of him. “If you don’t mind standing you can stay.”

The man gets his whiskey from the bartender and taps their glasses together. He looks right at Sid as he takes a drink and Sid only looks away to watch his throat work as he swallows.

“Don’t mind at all.”

-

He introduces himself as Geno. No last name.

Sid’s pretty sure that’s not his _real_ first name but Sid’s also pretty sure that he doesn’t care.

It’s probably better this way.

Still, he gives his real name as Geno shakes his hand.

“Sid,” Geno repeats. “Is nice.”

Sid shrugs and takes another sip of beer. “Do you come here often?”

Geno laughs at his directness but shakes his head. “No. Actually my first time. Just moved here for work.”

Sid wants to ask him what he does. If he works with those big hands. Maybe he’s a carpenter. Or a construction worker. Maybe he’s something dull and boring like an investment banker or something to do with insurance.

“From Russia,” Sid asks instead and Geno gives him a wide smile.

He makes his accent even thicker when he says “how can you tell?”

Sid wants to tell him that’s part of _his_ job. He flies into bases in countries all over the world. He can pinpoint an accent down to the exact province the speaker comes from.

Instead he traces Geno’s fingers with his own. They’re damp from holding onto his glass and when he drags them up the back of Geno’s hand across his wrist he watches the goosebumps form at the top of his skin.

“I think you’re going to like it here,” he says and Geno inhales sharply and calls the bartender over.

-

Sid isn’t a lightweight by any means.

But Geno is a force of nature.

There is a line of empty shot glasses in front of them and they each have a full one in their hands.

They started with vodka but switched to tequila for variety.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Geno says. He puts his hand on Sid’s wrist and the tequila spills over.

Sid licks it off his finger and Geno watches him with his lip pulled between his teeth. It looks like it pains him turn away and flag down the bartender.

“Is better this way,” he says as the bartender sets down a shaker of salt and a dish of lime wedges. He picks up a lime and holds it out for Sid to take in his mouth. “You ever do?”

Sid nods and takes the fruit between his teeth.

Geno takes his wrist in his hand and brings it up to his mouth.

He runs his tongue slowly from the pulse point at the base of Sid’s thumb across the other side in one smooth motion. It's a light pressure against the thin skin. 

He maintains eye contact the whole way.

Geno sprinkles on the salt then takes the shot and licks it off. 

He winks before he takes the lime from Sid’s mouth and Sid laughs. Their lips barely brush.

“Good,” Sid asks as Geno sucks on the lime. He pulls it out and drops the peel on the bar top with a nod. “You know that’s not actually how you do it, right?”

Geno pushes the salt shaker and the limes towards him. “Should show me then.”

Sid has to lean up to get close to Geno’s neck. He goes too far and starts to slide off the stool and Geno has to catch him with a hand against his waist.

“Thanks,” Sid says right before he presses his tongue to Geno’s skin.

He tastes like sweat and the sharp chemical tang of aftershave and Sid wants to spend forever with his lips and tongue against Geno’s neck.

Geno tips his head to the side so the salt sticks and Sid quickly downs the tequila so he can get can lick at his neck again.

He makes sure he gets all the salt and feels the vibration against his tongue when Geno makes a low sound in the back of his throat.

He bites at the lime and the second he puts it down Geno hauls him in by the back of his neck and kisses him for real.

It’s sloppy and hot and Sid pulls Geno between the wide splay of his thighs.

“Do you have a place here,” he asks and Geno shakes his head.

“Hotel room. Not moved in yet.”

Sid nods and stands up so he can fish his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans.

“Even better.”

-

He wakes up with fingerprint shaped bruises on his hips and beard burn on his inner thighs.

He remembers broad, warm hands roaming all over his body and full lips against his neck and chest.

Teeth catching on his nipples. 

Dark hair through his fingertips.

Toes curling against starchy hotel sheets.

The salty taste of come in his mouth.

He remembers kissing Geno goodnight and goodbye before he called himself a cab to get back to base.

He doesn’t remember showering when he got in, just stripping all his clothes off for the second time that night and falling face first onto his bed.

-

The guys whistle at him when he walks in.

His boots are untied and his flight suit is zipped half way down his chest with his dog tags hanging out of his t-shirt.

He keeps his aviators on and gives them all the finger as he makes a beeline to the coffee.

“You look like shit,” Tanger calls and Sid responds with “fuck you,” before he gulps it down.

It burns and his mouth still tastes like moldy cotton but he refills the Styrofoam cup up to the very top anyways.

“Was it a fun drinking night last night or a pathetic one,” Flower asks as Sid sits down at the table.

“Fun,” he says as a few of the other guys holler and Tanger pats him on the back.

“Atta boy,” he says. “But you picked a hell of a day to show up hungover. Not a very good first impression for our new commander.”

Sid takes another drink, it’s a more tolerable temperature this time, and leans back in his chair. The front legs of the chair come off the ground and he lifts his feet onto the table in front of him.

He tips his head back and closes his eyes.

“Whatever. He can see me at my worst right away.”

Tanger chuckles. “Still cranky over, Duper. Do we even have a name on the new guy?”

“Evgeni Malkin,” Flower says. “That’s what I heard. Doesn’t sound Canadian.”

“Russian,” Sid answers. “Probably a transfer.”

“Long way from home,” Flower says absentmindedly and Sid hums in the affirmative as the door opens and closes and people start to settle into their seats for the morning briefing.

Tanger thumps his hand against Sid’s knee and Sid bats his hand away.

He’s hungover. He’s mad about Duper. Fuck this new Lieutenant Colonel. He can write him up if he wants to.

“Okay everybody,” the new guy says. He has a heavy accent and Sid drops his feet to the ground and sits up straight.

Geno’s standing at the front of room in full dress blues.

“I’m Evgeni Malkin. Can call me Geno. Probably not as formal as some of the other officers here. Think everyone does a little better when everyone is relaxed.”

Sid is sweating and his head is pounding as Geno looks right at him.

There’s no sign of recognition on his face.

“You always keep sunglasses on inside, Captain?”

Sid takes a deep breath and slides them off his face.

He drops them on the table next to his forgotten coffee and looks up.

Geno’s eyes widen and his lips fall open.

_Fuck this new Lieutenant Colonel._

He’s already fucked the new Lieutenant Colonel.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is [ here](https://secret-sidgeno-writer.tumblr.com/)


End file.
